


It’s  okay to cry

by Zoya113



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Father figure hidgens, Gen, Mostly Pre-Canon, back on my bs, depression/ self depreciation tw, it has a happy ending tho, ties back in at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 08:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18407309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya113/pseuds/Zoya113
Summary: Emma’s been bottling up a lot of feelings since her sister died and her shitty job isn’t helping either





	It’s  okay to cry

“What do you mean I can’t clock off? It’s the end of my shift!” Emma wrung her apron anxiously in her hands.   
Nora stood in front of the back door. “Well you were seven minutes late today so get your ass back to the counter and finish up.”   
“If I stay I’ll be late to class!”  
“Well maybe you should’ve thought about that before showing up late,” she remarked rather carelessly. “You’re only making yourself later!” She added when Emma opened her mouth to reply.  
Emma could feel her chest tightening and her eyes began to sting.   
“Don’t make a scene,” Nora sighed, gesturing for her to return to the counter. “Just get it over and done with.”   
The store was half empty and Zoey was sitting in the back room on her phone.   
Emma turned her back to Nora, marching stiffly back over to the counter. She wiped her eyes with a napkin on the table and held her breath. She had to stay as still as possible because if she allowed herself to move around too much nothing would be able to stop from beating Nora within an inch of her life.   
She wanted to quit so badly. She wanted to just walk out the front door with no explanation and never return. This stupid job was her worst nightmare.   
When the seven minutes was up she could barely contain herself from doing something- she wasn’t sure whether she was holding back from crying or screaming or assaulting her coworker but the emotion was intense.   
She untied her apron and wrestled it off, throwing it to the ground.   
“I’m off now!” She called out to who ever could hear it, legging it out of the shop to her car.   
She threw a jacket on over the top of her work shirt and tried to shove her keys into the ignition, the feeling in her chest worsening every time she missed.   
She was going to be so late and everyone would look at her when she stumbled in, she already realised earlier this morning she forgot to charge her laptop so she’d be the only one hand writing things and everyone would be able to tell and she didn’t have time to change out of her uniform and everything was going awful and- she gritted her teeth, cutting off that train of thought.   
All that mattered was that she showed up.   
She wasn’t going to cry, crying was for weak losers who don’t have any dignity. Crying was for idiots, it was for people who weren’t good enough. Emma was not going to cry no matter how frustrating things got.   
She never took into account the traffic being bad, and by the time she got to campus she was half an hour late.   
She gathered her books and snuck through the doors to the lab.   
Her professor wasn’t talking, the whole room was in absolute silence as he prepared a demonstration at the front of the class.  
Not only had she missed out on an important lesson but because of the silence everyone heard her come in.   
Almost simultaneously, everyone’s heads swivelled around to look at her.   
Professor Hidgens looked up from whatever he was demonstrating on. “Emma, take a seat, see my after class,” he told her.  
Fantastic. Only on an absolutely awful day could she manage to upset Hidgens.   
She slipped off to the furthest corner of the classroom and sunk into her seat, dropping her books down on the table.  
Her eyes started to sting again and she bit back a sob. A voice in the back of her head told her not to cry. Crying is for losers it reminded her. It’s for people who have lost the fight.   
If she made it through today it’d be some sort of miracle.   
Everyone returned their focus to the demonstration, paying close attention until it was done. It was almost like everyone gained the air of ‘I’m better than you because I showed up to class on time.’ They walked with their chins up, sending sneering glances in her direction.  
She didn’t pay anyone any attention until a man sat down in the seat next to her.   
He said nothing, but she could feel his gaze on her thighs.   
She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. It’s all Nora’s fault. If she left when her shift ended she would’ve had time to get changed out of her stupid uniform.   
Any other day she would’ve done something about the man next to her but today was going all sorts of wrong. She just put her pencil case down on her legs instead.   
Professor Hidgens dismissed the seminar and she stayed in her seat whilst everyone else stood up.   
The professor cleared his throat as he made his way over to her chair, he perched on the desk next to her and cleared his throat yet again.   
“Is everything alright, Emma?” He asked.   
“I’m fine,” she said, but once she looked up from her desk into his eyes she felt something shift in her chest. “I’m-“ tears came rushing down her face.   
Fucking shit. Crying in front of her professor was the last thing she needed.  
Through blurry eyes she could see his expression warp into a look of shock.   
He reached out to put a hand on her back and she only started crying harder.   
“Emma, it’s alright,” he didn’t know what to say. It was because she wasn’t supposed to cry. She shouldn’t shove all her problems into her professor like this.   
Crying is for losers, crying is for losers, crying is for losers the voice in her head kept reminding her.   
“I’m sorry,” she wiped her face on the sleeve of her jacket but the tears kept coming. “I’m sorry, it’s just- it’s just-“ she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs to finish the sentence.   
“It’s okay to cry, Emma,” Hidgens assured her.   
His voice came through foreign to her. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. It wasn’t okay to cry, you only cry if you’ve given up and she had not given up. No matter what life was going to shove into her hands she wasn’t going to.   
No matter if her parents were shit and neglectful and no matter if her only sister died and no matter if work sucked and she had no time to make friends back in Hatchetfield and she was barely afloat at college she was not going to give up.   
“I should’ve just stayed in Guatemala!” She cried out. “I shouldn’t have come back to dumb, stupid Hatchetfield.”   
He rubbed his hands in circles on her back. “It’s okay,” he reminded her. “It’s okay to cry.”   
Of all the people to break down in front of it shouldn’t have been him. Although at this point the only people she could break down in front of were her co workers or absolute strangers, so at least it was someone she liked.   
Whenever he told her it was okay he said it without hesitance or uncertainty. He knew he was talking the truth and had no doubt about it. He was telling her the facts: it’s okay to cry.   
And so she did.   
She just couldn’t stop, it was like a whole decade of tears had been hiding behind her eyes.   
“It’ll all be okay,” he told her. He reached into his coat pocket for a handkerchief, letting her wipe her eyes with it. “Now what’s the matter, Emma?”   
“Just everything,” she wiped her eyes until the skin was starting to scratch. “I hate my job and I hate my parents and I don’t have anyone to talk about it with.”  
“Why not?”   
As a kid Emma was warned about a lot of things, she had been given the anti-drug talk and the safe sex talk and the dangers of bullying talk.   
But no one ever warned her about isolation. There’s no one to complain to our be happy with or even share thoughts with. She had found no escape from loneliness after Jane took the spotlight in the family. She moved to live in Guatemala and was perfectly happy backpacking and living by herself with no ties to anyone.   
Then some idiot had to go and speed past that red light and kill her sister.   
She had to be dragged back to Hatchetfield, back to her parents who couldn’t give less of a shit about her mental health. She had to get a shitty job with shitty pay and even worse coworkers.   
Nothing ever wanted to go her way.   
“I don’t know,” Emma stammered. “I just don’t have the time to make friends.”   
“Well, surely you have a coworker you like or-“   
Emma scoffed, cutting him off. “Nora would rather die than see me happy, and Zoey, she’s a whole other problem.”  
“What’s wrong with Zoey?” Her professor pronounced her name in the same mocking tone Emma always used. She didn’t think he understood that she was teasing her coworker.   
“Well, Zoey,” she said it properly this time and watched his face turn red as he realised his mistake. “She never helps out. She doesn’t go out of her way to be awful but she just doesn’t go out of her way to be nice either. She doesn’t really put in any work.”   
“Well maybe you should try and talk with her, maybe you’ll have something in common.”   
“Hah, with Zoey? No, absolutely not. She’s a theatre kid.” Emma’s eyes were clear enough for only a second to see Hidgens recoil slightly at his student’s distaste.  
“I’m just- not really very good at the whole friend business.”   
Hidgens helped Emma tidy up her messy textbooks. “Well let’s not think about this weeks papers then okay? We can think about that later. I’ll extend your due date a week or so.”  
“God, you have no idea how grateful I am for that.” She wiped the very last of her tears off her red face, she still felt pretty bad for crying.  
“I have a different assignment for you instead, Emma. Take some time for yourself, maybe even try to make a new friend?” He looked reminiscent for a moment.   
Emma forced a weak smile. “Thanks, Professor. Sorry for...” she made a vague gesture with her hands, “all of that.”   
He clapped her on the shoulder as she gathered her books and looked her in the eye. “Emma, it’s okay to cry.” 

Emma remembered waking up with a distinct sense of dread. Immediately she went over her recollection of her conversation with her professor in her head, trying to figure out how bad the damage was. Could she still look him in the eye after crying like that? Instead of finding an answer to her question another thought entered her head.  
‘So, he’s sort of like your dad now right?’   
She shut down that thought immediately. Even if it did make her feel a little bit better he probably didn’t think of her as a daughter. But still, she wanted to make a friend just so she could tell him she finished the little assignment he had for her. She would kill to see that smile again and have him tell her everything was going to be okay, it’s probably what she needed most in the shit storm or her life right now.   
It was what kept her in a decent mood during work at least.   
The bell above the door rung and a tall man walked in on his phone.   
“Hi, can I help you?”   
“Yeah, yeah yeah, Can I get a grande caramel frappe in a venti cup with ten pumps of hazelnut, three shots of espresso, no Carmel drizzle with whip on top?”   
God, if that’s going to be your order just do drugs already. This isn’t a Starbucks.   
But the professor said everything would be alright, so she just smiled and told him his price.   
“Jesus, fine.” The man scowled as if the pricing was her fault and she deliberately went out of her way to make him pay more.   
“Hey,” he called her again, trying to grab her attention while giving none of his own. He directed all of it towards his phone.  
“Yeah?” She answered in a very customer service voice. As soon as this guy gets out of here she could continue her attempt to be positive.  
“I just tipped you.” So maybe he wasn’t an asshole.  
“Oh, well thank you!” She nodded, returning to his complicated coffee order until his snide tone called for her attention again.   
“Aren’t you supposed to sing? The sign says tip for a song,” he spoke to her like she had no idea the sign existed. So he was asshole all along.   
She held back a comment, her hands tightening around the coffee cup. Not the god damn singing. “Yeah, um, that’s like a new thing.” She set his cup down and paced back over to the counter.   
Hidgens said at least try to make friends. “The owner went to Cold Stone Creamery over the weekend and brought back the whole singing thing,” she thought maybe the little story would break the ice, maybe they could both laugh at it and the encounter wouldn’t be that bad. “But you know, there’s a line and people are working. I don’t want to disturb anyone.”   
“I don’t care, I just tipped you come on.” He looked at her with this huge, expectant and smug grin on his face.   
That was it. She wasn’t being friends with this man. “Okay, well did you do that to be nice or did you do it to be an asshole?”   
“Fine, I’ll take it back then.” The man reached into the jar, pulling back his single dollar.   
“Oh no! What am I gonna do without that dollar I have to split with five other people?” She mocked him, at this point she was just venting frustration.   
“You know what? I’m never coming back here again. That sign’s bullshit.”   
She didn’t realise how much trouble she was in until she noticed Nora watching from the break room.   
“Emma, what’s the deal over here?”   
“That guy just flipped out on me for practically no reason!” She didn’t expect Nora to be a good friend either, and as if the world was making fun of her today a customer rose from his table and called her out.  
“She wouldn’t sing for him.”  
And then Zoey had to beat her while she was down too, and suddenly the whole world was against her.   
She just gripped onto Hidgen’s words with all her might. It was all going to be fine, and if she had to cry after work tonight then so be it.   
“Move your ass, you’ve got a line,” Nora huffed.   
If her life the past few years was any indication of her fortune then it was no surprise someone was listening into their scuffle. They’d probably give her a hard time too about making them wait.   
She turned around to face the customer. He stood sheepishly with his hands in his pockets, his eyes were fixed on her with a little smile. He was probably laughing at her too.   
Downcast, she returned to the counter and put her customer service face back on. “Hi, can I help you?”   
“Uh, yeah. I got an easy one for you. Just a cup of black coffee.” He was watching her every move with completely innocent look of happiness. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him drop a note into the tip jar.   
“Jesus! Really?”   
He looked shocked, she was sure she was going to have to get into another argument but throughout the whole transaction the man was pleasant with her. Not even ‘basic manner’ type kindness, he was genuinely going out of his way to be nice.   
“I mean because if I have to sing for it, it’s not really a tip, right? It’s just like I have another shitty paying job on top of my already shitty paying job!” And suddenly she was spilling her thoughts out to him. He was a regular really, he was here every other day or so and always asked for the same thing. “Only a jukebox doesn’t also have to make coffee for these assholes!” She could tell how fast she was rambling, it was the first time someone had actually listened to her in ages except for dad- no, professor Hidgens. She snapped at herself for thinking that way. Calling him dad on accident would be much worse than crying in front of him.   
This man was just so nice to her. He let her keep the five dollars he tipped, he listened to her complain and he barely knew her.   
She thought of her own ‘assignment’ the professor had given her and scanned the man hopefully.   
“I see you in here all the time, don’t I? What’s your name?”   
“Paul.”  
“Hi Paul, I’m Emma.” She felt like she was introducing herself to a classmate on the first day of school. Before she could go any further she was interrupted by the same customer from earlier, and by the time she looked back, Paul had left. 

“How did that assignment go that I set for you, Emma?” Hidgens caught her before she could leave class that day.  
“Um, good! Yeah, actually. It uh,” she trailed off. “There was a man at the coffee shop today that I spoke to, he was pretty nice.”   
Hidgens smiled and patted her on the back. “That’s lovely. His name?”  
“Oh! Uh, Paul. We only spoke for a little but he’s a regular so maybe-“ she could feel the smile creeping across her face.   
“Good job, Emma.”  
“Thanks dad.”  
Shit.  
He started at her and she stared at him. He looked like he was biting back a smile.  
“Professor, I meant professor!”   
Hidgens put his hand on her shoulder assuringly. “That’s perfectly fine, Emma. Go on your way now, and make sure to take a break tonight.”   
“Thank you, Professor.” She dumped her textbooks into her backpack and raced out of the seminar hall.   
Now she definitely couldn’t look him in the eye.   
But instead of trying to suppress the memory she decided to tuck it away, maybe if Paul came in tomorrow it could be a fun little story to help break the ice.  
It felt nice to not be alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Back on my bs writing another tgwdlm fic instead of going to bed this is like my 8th or something I hope you guys are enjoying them at least sbtbsbfb


End file.
